


Civic Duty

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Discworld - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: They say that every Patrician can turn people to stone with a glance.





	

They say that every Patrician can turn people to stone with a glance. This is incorrect; the rumour only started because a Quirmian tourist entirely misunderstood the Stoneface Vimes comments, although it was believable enough to spread.

What a glance from the Patrician can do is shut up the Head of the Thieves’ Guild. The man swallows hard and sits back down.

The Patrician looks at the other Ankh-Morpork notables who, for the most part try their best to avoid his eye. “Any other business?” he says, mildly, in a voice that, nonetheless, suggests that there will be no further business.

The others nod and escape as fast as they can, bar three. The Head of the Alchemists’ Guild leans forward on his elbows. “You ought to be more careful of Camero,” he says. “Didn't say a thing.”

“I noticed,” the Patrician says, a casual reminder that no one lasts long in his position without noticing this kind of thing, and continues to make notes.

The Commander of the Watch grins. “Going to give him an unfortunately explosive accident, Q? It's only fair to let me know in advance.”

Q sniffs. “No, I'll leave that to Eve, thank you.”

The Head of the Assassins beams. “Cheers. Say the word, Gareth, and pay in advance.”

The door behind Q opens silently. “Evening, Bill,” Gareth says without looking up from his notes. “Files on my desk, please.”

“Sir,” the secretary says, depositing the files as instructed. “Reports of unlicensed thieving in Cable Street, bodies of the thieves found on the river this morning.”

“On?” Q says.

“You ought to get out more, dear; the river's always solid this time of year,” James says smugly.

Q narrows his eyes at him.

Bill rolls his eyes at their antics. “Found by the newspaper, I might add, who then woke one of your boys to let him know-” Bill consults the file “- ‘out of a feeling of public duty’.”

James swears. “Read, ‘to show me up’.”

“Can no one in this city have a sense of civic duty?” Eve says, cleaning her nails idly with a stiletto blade.

“No,” return James and Gareth as one.

“I do,” Q says petulantly, “I didn't blow up the city _twice_ last week.”

“The exception which proves the rule,” Bill says absently. “Some Omnians have been protesting outside the Assassins’ Guild due to the sacred nature of life, sir. They keep talking about ethics, as well.”

“Should keep my lot entertained,” Eve says happily.

“Yes. The Clowns’ Guild are complaining,” Bill adds.

“What for?” Gareth says.

“People keep heading over there to seek good, honest entertainment and they feel somewhat left out, sir. Their leader suggested you might find someone to object to them.”

Q laughs. “Every child in the city, I shouldn't wonder.”

James pulls a face. “I'm not going near them.”

“Aw, cute,” Eve says. “Bill, do you have any idea where Camero is right now? Just curious.”

“Still in the Palace, doubtless,” Gareth says, unconcernedly.

“Any more specific ideas?” James says.

Bill rummages in his pockets and pulls out some string, a pencil and a twig. He plucks a quill from Q’s hand and ties the items together somewhat haphazardly. Bill holds it up and let's it swing. James opens his mouth but Eve hushes him with a gesture. As they watch, Bill appears to see something in the shapes but Q could have sworn that the twig had just passed through the quill…

Bill collects it all up in his hands again. “Cellar. He intends to try the kitchens, I believe, although the wine cellar is also a possibility.” He unties the parts and returns the quill to Q with a smile.

“Was that - magic?” James says suspiciously.

“Not wizard magic,” Q frowns.

“Much older. The magic of chalk and sheep, not Dungeon Dimensions and runes.” Bill smiles a bit shyly. “Hang around with the village witch long enough and you pick up a few tricks.”

“You're a _witch_?” Q says incredulously. Eve grins at Mallory, who shakes his head indulgently at her antics.

“No, only women can be witches. I can do some witchcraft, though.”

“So if you aren't a witch, what did they call you?” James says curiously.

Bill shrugs. “I think, technically, I'm a warlock, but they mostly just called me ‘that nosy Tanner boy’ or, for short, ‘boy’.” He grins.

Eve beams at him. “You crazy son of a witch.”

“Nephew,” Bill protests mildly.

Eve stands and crosses to lean against the wall beside the door. James follows her lead. The door opens a fraction and then, when no alarm is raised, swings open fully. Camero enters stealthily while Bill, Q and Gareth put on a good show of not noticing him.

James clears his throat and Eve punches him in the head, hard. He drops like a stone.

Gareth looks up and sighs. “Gone are the days of elegant murder. He's got a crossbow. Where's the finesse?”

“It'd make a horrible mess on the carpet as well, from that range,” Bill says sadly.

Q sighs. “It's not even Burleigh and Stronginthearm. I'm all for small businesses, but this one isn't actually any _good_. It would be embarrassing, aside from anything else.”

“What, like fatal?” James grunts as he cuffs the unconscious Camero. “Say I read him the bloody rights, won't you?”

Eve kicks the would-be assailant none-too-gently. “No respect for my craft. Just rude.”

Gareth shrugs. “Well, we did need a new leader.”

“We did?” James says, frowning.

Bill nods. Eve hums her agreement. “He wasn't much good,” Q says gently, patting James’ hand.

“Were you going to have him assassinated?”

Gareth hums. “Probably,” he says mildly.

“How would you do it, Eve?” Q asks.

She thinks about it for a second. “Poison,” she decides. “Slip a little present in his drink.”

“A woman's weapon, they say,” James raises an eyebrow at her.

“By which I assume you mean efficient and tidy,” she replies with a shark-like smile.

James shrugs. “Oh, absolutely. Fancy a drink, anyone?”


End file.
